Greater (Exasperated) Love Hath No Mother

Avocado just left the house...and her lunch. So I grab it up and dash downstairs to the front door, barefoot and in my nightgown--yes, the nightgown with the torn right sleeve--and yell for the child to return to the house to get her lunch. Child finally stops, about 100 feet away, and gestures for me, barefoot and in my nightgown--yes, the nightgown with the torn right sleeve--to come to her with her lunch. I gesture for her to come, she shakes her head; we could be at this all morning. So I, barefoot and in my nightgown, and with no supportive undergarments to sooth the sensibilities of the easily shocked, dart onto the sidewalk and run halfway down the block, while Avocado advances toward me. I toss her the lunch bag (which she almost catches) and wave, and run back into the house.

I guess I checked my dignity at the door when I had kids, but really.